


Arya Saves the Day

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arachnophobia, F/M, Fluff and Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Heard a scream and thought you were getting killed but it was just a spider college au."</p><p>Originally published on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arya Saves the Day

Arya was just sitting down to her reading on the establishment of religious-based communities in Essos when she heard a scream, followed by a series of thumps, from the room above her.

She realized two things as she jumped up from the common-room couch: first, that her freshman dorm’s weird resident graduate fellow was probably in trouble, and second, that this might be the  _Arya to the rescue!_ moment she’d been waiting for for years.

She grabbed her roommate’s intramural softball bat from the corner and burst out of her room, thundering up the stairs with visions in her head of the red-haired white-haired Lorathi student lying in a pool of his fresh blood on the floor while she bashed some masked intruder’s knees in with the bat.  She’d rarely talked to this strange Jaqen H’ghar dude (she’d talked  _about_ him, sure, rolling her eyes at both the guys who laughed at his name and the girls across the hall who giggled about touching his long, soft-looking, colorful hair) but tonight she was determined to come to his rescue.

She pushed open the door of the room directly above her own and saw no pool of blood, no intruder (masked or otherwise) and certainly no sign of any violence.  What she  _did_ see was thick old library books scattered all over the floor and Jaqen H’ghar crouching, wide-eyed, on his bed.

It was weird to see this mysterious grad student dressed like any other student would be on a Tuesday night during midterms, in an old white t-shirt with some faded Lorathi writing on it, sweatpants rolled up around his knees, and his hair up in a  _ponytail_ (Arya almost laughed).  It was even weirder to see him crouching on his bed looking almost  _terrified_.

"Sorry, I thought something happened to you.  Are you okay?"  Arya took another step into the room even though he hadn’t invited her in.

"A man is—"  Jaqen H’ghar’s face was turning almost as red as the red half of his hair.  "A man feels more embarrassed than anything at this point, but—"

"But what?  Why are you on your bed?"  Arya walked into the center of the room.  Other than an old rug on the floor and an even older-looking sword mounted on the wall, the room didn’t have much in the way of decorations.  But somehow it felt inviting.

Jaqen pointed at a spider that sat mid-way up the white wall behind his desk.  

"That?"  The spider was big, but more daddy-longlegs big than tarantula big.  Definitely the kind that looked scarier than it was.

"A man is—a man  _fears—_ ”

"Here, I’ll take care of it."  Arya walked carefully to the wall and let the spider crawl onto her hand.  Jaqen shuddered very visibly.  "My brothers and I used to look for different insects out in our yard. I think my brother Bran still believes in ice spiders…"  She carried the spider over to Jaqen’s open window and let it crawl onto the windowsill and beyond.  "Bye, little friend.  Come visit me.  I’m one floor down."

She turned to Jaqen, whose eyes were still wide.  ”Are you going to be okay?”

"A man will be, but a man regrets…"

Arya remembered what little she knew about the Lorathi and their strange politeness customs.  The guy was a mess.  He could probably use a little comforting.  ”What does… _a man_ regret?”

"That a girl sees him like this.  A man should not be this way.  But a man cannot deal with all those  _legs_.”  Even his ears were bright red now.  Arya felt bad for him.  His face was very pretty, she noticed, even with all the blushing.

"It’s cool," Arya said.  "My fencing teacher at home always says this thing.   _Fear cuts deeper than swords._ So, you know.  Don’t feel bad.”

"A man must thank a lovely girl."  Jaqen took her by the wrist and kissed the back of her hand.  His lips were soft.  It should have been creepy, or hilarious, or  _something_ , but nothing seemed  _more_ appropriate right now than to be kissed on the back of the hand by Jaqen H’ghar.

"I have some reading to be doing, but can I help you pick up those books before I go?"  Arya slid onto the floor before he could give her an answer.

"That would be most kind of a lovely girl.  Arya, is it?  Arya Stark?"

"That’s me."

"A beautiful name."  Jaqen joined her on the floor.  Arya read the spine of the first book she picked up.   _The Physical Forms of Death_.  And the next:  _Death as Blessing_.  The next two she gathered were written in Braavosi and Lorathi, and both looked like they were a thousand years old and might break if you sneezed on them.

"You’re studying death?"

"A man reads these for his dissertation."  He grimaced, and looked for a second like the most average Westerosi grad student ever.  "A man is behind on his reading.  But he finds that the more he reads about death, the more he accepts that it is the most natural thing to happen since birth.  And this means he fears it less."

"But  _this man_  is afraid of a totally harmless spider?”

Arya expected Jaqen to blush again, but instead he cocked an eyebrow.  ”A man does not always make sense.”

Arya would never understand where this impulse came from, but the next thing she knew, she was leaning in and kissing this Jaqen H’ghar full on his soft lips.  He didn’t seem surprised.  He didn’t protest.  Instead, he wrapped an arm around her hips and the other around her back and leaned against his desk, pulling her tight against him.  She let her hands slide into his hair and pull out his ponytail, thinking about the girls who stupidly giggled about his hair in the bathroom, thinking about how now she  _knew_ how soft it was. She thought of—no,  _felt_ —the other things she was now learning, like that his hands were big, and that he grazed her lower lip with his teeth very deliberately, and that the sound of his heavy breathing was the coolest thing she’d heard in a long time.

When they finally pulled apart, Arya knew her face was just as red as his looked.


End file.
